Memories of a Sin
by The Unnamed Sin
Summary: Thirteen years ago, Father sent a spy to find out more about the magical world. One year later, all contact ceased without warning. Worried, he sends Pride to investigate...
1. Battlefield

**Memories of a Sin**

 _By: The Unnamed Sin_

 **Summary: Thirteen years ago, Father sent a spy to find out more about the magical world. One year later, all contact ceased without warning. Worried, he sends Pride to investigate...**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. No copyright infringement was intended.**

 **Important! I have taken some lines directly from the book. No copyright infringement was intended. I will go back and edit this in the future. However, for the moment if you see a • surrounding a paragraph, it means that I took it from the book.**

Harry Potter was distinctly unamused. He had to deal with his Aunt Marge, yet another Dursley who would scream at him for no apparent reason, for a whole week. Oh joy. Not only that, but he had to pretend that he went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys so that the Dursleys could hold on to their precious little facade of normalcy.

At least he would get his permission form signed, so that he would be able to visit Hogsmeade. Seriously though, what was with wizards and calling things by weird names?

It seemed like immediately after he hid all traces of 'freakishness' from his room, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry to come and greet their guest.

•"Do something about your hair!" she snapped as he reached the hall.•

Harry glared at her discreetly. His hair was fine the way it was, thank you very much! Although he had noticed that it was longer and had a bit of a greenish tinge to it... He shook himself from his musings in favor of preparing himself for his eminent doom.

•All to soon, there was the distinct sound of gravel crunching as Uncle Vernon's car pulled into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.•

•"Hurry! Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.•

Really wishing that he was somewhere else, Harry pulled the door open.

•On the doorstep stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.•

Harry groaned mentally. This was going to be a long week...

This is a timeskip. Books are awesome.

•At last, at long last, the final evening of Aunt Marge's stay arrived. Aunt Petunia had prepared a fancy dinner, and Uncle Vernon had uncorked several bottles of wine.•

•When they were having the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon brought out a large bottle of brandy.•

•"Can I tempt you Marge?"•

•Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.•

•"Just a small one then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that... and a bit more... that's the ticket."•

Harry really wanted to disappear into his bedroom, but he met Uncle Vernon's angry little eyes and knew he would have to sit it out if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade.

When Aunt Marge started to complain about him he did his best to ignore it. But then she crossed the line.

When she insulted his mother, the lights began flickering as he desperately tried to calm down.

When she called insulted both of his parents, calling them drunkards who got killed in a car crash, he snapped.

•"They didn't die in a car crash!" said Harry, who found himself on his feet.•

His eyes widened a bit when suddenly images and sounds of screams, gunfire, explosions, soldiers marching through the streets, dead bodies, tears, blood pooling in the gutters, and, above all, a maniacal cackling.

The surreal experience was over as soon as it came, and none of the Dursleys had noticed, least of all Aunt Marge, who was screaming about him being a burden on his 'decent' and 'hardworking' relatives.

Before she could continue her rant, however, she suddenly stopped speaking. Her tremendously ugly face began to expand, her beady little eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech. Within moments, several buttons had burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls, leaving dents in the floral wallpaper. She was inflating like a giant balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, and each of her fingers were blowing up like sausages.

Harry watched this happen in shock, thinking _'oh sh*t, I've been expelled, haven't I?'_. However, there was some small part of him that was feeling vindictive pleasure from watching everyone running around in terror. They were really like headless chickens weren't they?

Realizing what had just happened, Harry tore from the dining room before anyone could stop him. Heading towards the cupboard under the stairs, he burst the door open with a blast of magic. In mere seconds, he heaved his trunk to the front door.

•Sprinting up the stairs, he launched himself under his bed, wrenching open the loose floorboard and grabbing his pillowcase full of books and birthday presents. He also grabbed Hedwig's cage before zooming back down the stairs to shove his stuff into his trunk.•

Just as Uncle Vernon burst through the dining room door, Harry pulled out his wand, gave him a _look_ that would have reduced braver souls to a trembling mess, and left.

He slammed the door in his face for good measure.

 **A/N: I should be working on TBWL. My muse has other plans. Soo, yeah. By the way, everything will be explained. Just trust me on this one... *diabolical grin*. My birthday is tomorrow! Yay! Also, this is officially the longest chapter that I have written to date! It is nearly 1000 words, including the A/Ns and other such things. Also, I apologize if Harry is OOC, I am trying to make him a bit darker, stronger, and more independent. Out of curiosity, what do** ** _you_** **think is going on?**


	2. Shadow

_Last chapter: Just as Uncle Vernon burst through the dining room door, Harry pulled out his wand, gave him a look that would have reduced braver souls to a trembling mess, and left._

 _He slammed the door in his face for good measure._

 **Disclaimer: I do not own either Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter.**

 **Important! I have taken some lines directly from the book. No copyright infringement was intended. I will go back and edit this in the future. However, for the moment if you see a • surrounding a paragraph, it means that I took it from the book.**

Chapter Two:

If anyone had bothered to look, they would have seen a raging Harry storm out of number four, privet drive, lugging a very large trunk that had an empty birdcage attached to it.

But no one bothered to look.

Harry made it several streets before collapsing on a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from having to drag his extremely heavy trunk all that way.

After he had calmed down some, he started freaking out.

 _'What happened back there?'_ thought Harry, recalling the strange almost flashback that he'd had right before he had accidentally blown up his aunt. The thing that freaked him out the most about the experience, despite the horrifying nature of the flashback itself, was the fact that _it had never happened to him._

The memory was clearly of a battlefield, and it was most certainly in the desert. There were no deserts in Britain. He would have loved to have said that it was something he had seen once on the Telly, but it had seemed as though he had actually _been_ there, not as though it was just something that he had only _seen._

The worst part of all, however, was that the maniacal laugh that he had heard, seemed to have come from _him._

Harry was interrupted from his horrified musings by the strange feeling that he was being watched. He jumped up nervously, immensely grateful that his wand was in his hand instead of in his trunk. He glanced around warily, looking around for any sign of a threat.

The strange shadows cast by the streetlights were _so_ not helping his nerves. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he had the sudden recollection of a small boy, no older than eight or nine at the most, with cold purple eyes and a cruel, arrogant smirk, as he commanded shadows with red eyes and _far_ too many teeth to gruesomely rip apart his enemies.

Harry started at the sudden memory that didn't belong to him forcing its way into his head, making him trip and fall in the process. He threw his arm out to try and catch himself, catching a glimpse of something large crouching in the bushes, before there was a tremendous BANG and a violently purple bus was suddenly parked right in front of him.

For a split second, Harry wondered if he had gone mad. It would explain quite a bit. Then a conductor in a uniform as purple as the bus he was riding jumped out and began to talk loudly into the night.

•"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you wherever you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening."• he said, in a boredly professional tone.

Harry, who had jumped up when Stan had started speaking, was staring at the bus in awe. While unexpected, this was a very pleasant turn of events. Finally, things were going his way! With a sickening jolt, he remembered that little detail about him being expelled for using magic outside of school, and for breaking the statute of secrecy.

Wondering where he should go, he decided upon the least harebrained scheme he could think of (going to London, getting the money out of his vault, then starting life as a runaway) and asked the conductor to take him to the Leaky Cauldron.

Eleven Sickles later, he was sitting on a surprisingly comfortable bed in the Knight Bus, as Stan sat down next to the driver, telling him to "Take 'er away Ern,"

There was another deafening BANG, and suddenly Harry found himself flat against the bed, thrown backwards by the sheer speed of the bus. In a few moments they had stopped, suddenly enough to jerk everything forwards somewhat painfully. After dropping a fairly green witch off somewhere in Abergavenny, they were off again. Silently Harry swore that he would never ride on this bus again if at all possible. At least they hadn't asked for his name.

•"So woss your name?" asked Stan.•

As he was saying...

"James. James Smith." said Harry, privately applauding himself about pulling a name out of nowhere like that.

Stan just grunted and pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet, reading it rather disinterestedly.

Harry was fervently grateful that he had decided to get a subscription to the Prophet that summer. If he had asked who Sirius Black was, he could have blown his cover. As it was, the mere thought that someone who had murdered thirteen people with one curse had escaped from prison was unnerving, to say the least.

Shortly, Harry was the only passenger left.

With yet another bang, they were zooming down Charing Cross Road, before screeching to a halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron. It looked even dingier than usual.

After he had helped Stan get his trunk and Hedwig's cage out of the bus and onto the pavement, he thanked him, and then Stan got back on the bus and they were off like a shot.

•" _There_ you are, Harry," said a voice.•

Harry whipped around, only to come face to face with Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Timeskip! Because we all know what happens next.

Harry was sitting in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, feeling _very_ suspicious. He had gotten off scot-free, the Minister was especially nervous, and other little details of the meeting had just felt _off._

Absently stroking Hedwig, who had been there when he had arrived, he watched the sky change colours.

•"It's been a very weird night, Hedwig," he yawned.•

•And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep.•


	3. Human

**Chapter Three: Human**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist.**

 **Important! I have taken some lines directly from the book. No copyright infringement was intended. I will go back and edit this in the future. However, for the moment if you see a • surrounding a paragraph, it means that I took it from the book.**

 _Last Time:_

 _•It's been a very weird night Hedwig," he yawned.•_

 _•And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep.•_

Harry spent the next week or so in Diagon Alley. He did his homework outside of Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, as the owner was quite nice, and would give him free sundaes every half a hour.

Once, curious as to what everyone was staring at, he made the mistake of looking in the window of Quality Quiddich Supplies. Bad idea. There, bold as brass, was the brand new Firebolt broom. Harry had to constantly remind himself that no, he did not need a new broom. He already had a perfectly good broomstick, and that the little 'Price on Request' tag probably meant that the Firebolt was horrifically expensive.

As the days started ticking closer to the start of term, Harry began seeing Hogwarts students in Diagon Alley. He never saw Hermione or Ron, however.

•Harry woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express.•

Once he was dressed, he glanced in the mirror to make sure that he didn't look like something out of a cheap zombie movie. He didn't. His hair, however, had grown again, and was now past his shoulders. The green tinge was also more prominent. He was starting to resemble some kind of foliage.

Harry sighed and headed downstairs, wondering if there was a decent barber in Diagon Alley. After a few hours of searching, he realized that, no, there wasn't a decent barber in Diagon Alley. Or any barber, for that matter.

Heading back to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, Harry heard someone calling his name.

•"Harry! HARRY!"•

He turned around, grinning. Ron and Hermione were sitting outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Ron had grown, and Hermione had a giant pile of books. Harry wondered how she could even carry so many. They were both waving at him cheerfully.

Harry sat down next to them, and the three friends immediately struck up an animated conversation. They talked about school, Sirius Black, Egypt, Harry blowing up his aunt, Cornelius Fudge, the Monster Book of Monsters, the amount of classes Hermione was taking, and-

"Harry, why does your hair look like a palm tree?" Ron asked, snickering.

Harry sighed in annoyance. "I don't know! It just happened! I would have cut it, except that I don't have scissors, there aren't any barbers in Diagon Alley, they don't sell scissors, I'm not allowed to go into muggle London, and-"

"Gah! We get it Harry! No need to go off on a tangent!" cried Hermione exasperatedly. "Anyways, I'm going to the Magical Menagerie to get myself an owl."

"I'll go too. Scabbers hasn't been looking too well since Egypt. I might as well get him looked at." said Ron, pulling out the rat. It looked a bit pale.

Harry decided to go as well, since he knew that something would go wrong.

While Ron was getting Scabbers looked at, Harry amused himself by looking at all of the exotic animals in the store. There were rats that did tricks with their tails, a flying mint green bunny, and a rather evil looking owl.

Way in the back of the store, Harry found... something. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it seemed like some kind of deformed gecko.

The thing was green, with lots of small, stumpy legs. It had a long, slit like mouth that went down to its midsection, and the mouth itself was lined with teeth. To top it off, it had two large, bulbous eyes, one on each side of its head. In short, the thing was disgustingly ugly.

Harry felt a surge of pity for the creature. "You poor thing." he murmured. "Living your whole life being so ugly, having everyone gawk at you for something that you can't help. I hope that something good will happen to you."

Giving one last sympathetic look at the thing, which just looked back at him apathetically, Harry went back up to the front counter.

Up at the front, Ron was handing over a few Galleons for some rat tonic. Just as Harry walked up, a ball of orange fur flew at him, yowling as though it were possessed. Before Harry could even begin to comprehend what was going on, the fur ball was clawing at his face, hissing and spitting madly.

Harry began yelling out profanities foul enough to make even the saltiest sailor blush.

After a lot of apologies, more swearing on Harry's part, and a can of tuna, they finally got the thing to let go of him. It turns out that the thing was a cat.

Harry and Ron decided to make a strategic retreat (*cough*runaway*cough*) to the Leaky Cauldron and get lunch while they waited for Hermione to get her pet.

While they waited for their lunch to arrive, Ron turned to Harry, awe in his eyes. "Where did you even learn all of those swear words?! Some of them were even in another language!" he asked, impressed.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It just kind of happened."

"Oh," said Ron, visibly deflated. "By the way, what does 'shoraineo zesh' mean?"

Harry went beet red. "You don't want to know."

Hermione chose that moment to walk in, and sitting in her arms was... The demon cat. Thankfully, it seemed uninterested in clawing Harry's face off.

As their lunch arrived, Hermione was petting her new cat, Crookshanks, while arguing with Ron.

Mrs. Weasley soon bustled in, followed by the rest of the Weasley children. The lot of them laughed, talked, and enjoyed themselves until well after dark, when Mrs. Weasley practically shoved them all into bed.

Once Harry learned that Ron's rat tonic was gone, he offered to go downstairs and look for it. When he was halfway down the hallway, he overheard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arguing. Apparently Sirius Black wanted to kill Harry.

Harry wasn't surprised, he was kind of expecting this. What made him gnash his teeth in anger, however, was the fact that someone would even consider not telling him something like this. This was relevant. This was important.

He would kill these pathetic humans, he would make them pay! How could such inferior beings even think of being condescending to him?! He would paint the streets with their blood, and... Wait, what?

Harry was horrified. How could he even think about killing someone? That was barbaric! And why did he think of them as 'pathetic humans' as though he wasn't one? Why did he think of himself as above them? He wasn't! Just because he was famous did not give him the right to think of himself as above everyone else!

Harry was interrupted by the sounds of the Weasley parents coming up the stairs. He scampered back into his room, waited until he heard their bedroom door close. As soon as he heard the soft snick of the door closing, Harry sped down the stairs.

•The bottle of rat tonic was lying under the table they had sat at earlier. Harry went to give Ron the rat tonic, then shut himself in his room and lay down on his bed.•

Silently swearing that he would _not_ be murdered by some sidekick of a megalomaniac, Harry turned over and went to sleep.


	4. Dementor

Chapter 4: Dementor

 **Disclaimer: I do not own either Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter. No copyright infringement was intended, and I am making no money from this.**

 _Last time: Silently swearing that he would_ _not_ _be murdered by some sidekick of a megalomaniac, Harry turned over and went to sleep._

Chaos. That one word perfectly described the Weasley's attempt at getting to the train on time. Somehow though, they had done it.

As Harry walked through the barrier onto platform nine and three quarters, he had a feeling that Mr. Weasley would try to warn him about Sirius.

"Harry-" began Mr. Weasley, a very obvious tremor in his voice revealing his nervousness.

"Mr. Weasley, if this is about Sirius Black, than I already know that he's after me." Harry interrupted, irritation lacing his voice.

Mr. Weasley slumped in relief. "Yes, well, Harry, will you promise me something?"

Harry nodded, confused.

"Promise me that no matter what, you will not go looking for Black." he said, in a dead serious tone.

Harry promised. Although he did wonder why he would want to go after someone who would dearly love to kill him, and had the power to do so. It made no sense whatsoever.

Shrugging, Harry decided to instead apply himself to finding an empty compartment. It was harder than he thought it would be. Only after the train had taken off did Harry, Ron, and Hermione manage to find one. The compartment was at the very back of the train, and its only occupant was a rather ill looking young man, who was taking a nap.

"So who d'you reckon this bloke is?" Ron asked as the trio filed into the compartment.

"Professor R. J. Lupin." said Hermione, yet again displaying her slightly terrifying knowledge.

•"Blimey Hermione, you know everything! She knows everything!"• said Ron. He was a little scared.

"It's on his suitcase Ronald." said Hermione, pointing to said suitcase.

Harry could have slapped himself. What kind of spy was he? That was bloody obvious! He was supposed to be good at this! Wait, spy?

With that, Harry decided that he would absolutely not tell his friends about this. It would only make them worry. He would however, tell them about Sirius Black. If he was after Harry, then they were in danger too.

Closing the compartment door, Harry quickly filled them in about Black, and Mr. Weasley's warning.

Once he was done, it was clear that his friends were more worried about it than he was.

"Oh Harry," said Hermione, obviously worried about him.

"Guys, please don't worry about it, I'll be fine! Besides, it's not like I'm going to blindly charge in like a total idiot. Have I ever done that?" Harry asked, expecting that that would reassure his best friends.

Hermione snorted. "You? Blindly charge in like a total idiot? _Never_. You planned for _everything_ when you went to protect the philosopher's stone. And you were so _prepared_ when you went to save Ginny. I'm sure that you would never do something _stupid_." she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry sighed. "Oh damn. You're right. I do charge in like an idiot, don't I?"

"Yes. Yes you do. You use the exact same strategy in chess, which is why you always lose." Ron said, grinning.

The three friends spent the next few hours like this, laughing, teasing, and generally talking about nothing in particular. Aside from one small confrontation with Malfoy, it was a very pleasant journey.

Harry and Ron were arguing about which Quiddich team was the best, and Hermione was reading her Divination textbook, occasionally muttering things like 'lunacy' and 'completely illogical'.

Suddenly, the train screeched to a halt.

"We can't be there already, can we?" Harry asked, confused and worried.

"No, we won't be there for another hour at least. And this is a magical train, so we can't have broken down..." Hermione said, checking her watch.

"Guys, something's moving out there!" said Ron, his face pressed up against the window of their compartment. "I think someone's coming aboard!"

At that exact moment, the lights went out.

Ron let out a very undignified squeal. Harry would have laughed if the situation were less tense and fraught with worry.

The compartment door opened.

"Um, Harry? Hermione? Ron? This is your compartment, right?"

"Neville? Is that you?"

"U-um, yeah,"

There was a hiss, and a yelp of pain. Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

The compartment door opened again.

"Guys?"

"Ginny?"

"Yeah. Can I sit here?"

"Sure."

"No, not here! I'm here! Go a few centimeters to the left!" Harry yelped.

"Quiet!" called a hoarse voice.

The compartment was suddenly flooded with light. Professor Lupin had finally woken up. His hand was curled around a ball of flames.

"Calm down everyone." he said, in the same hoarse voice.

The compartment door opened for the third time.

It opened slowly, and Harry could tell that whatever was coming in was not human. He was right.

The thing wore a black cloak that had the hood drawn up, so you couldn't see its face. Harry could see a hand peeping out of the cloak. The thing was shiny, scabbed, and rotting, as though it had decayed in water. It sickened him.

The thing took a deep rattling breath, and Harry felt himself growing weaker. As if the thing could sense this, it drifted towards him.

All of a sudden...

 _He was in the Chamber of Secrets, Basilisk venom coursing through his veins..._

 _Voldemort fused to the back of Quirell's skull..._

 _Stuck at the top of the tree, listening to Ripper's barking and the Dursley's laughter..._

 _"Avada Kedavra!" Blinding green light, a woman screaming..._

 _Beheaded..._

 _Burning to ash..._

 _The humiliation of showing Lust his true form..._

 _Shot..._

 _Stabbed..._

 _A swirling red torrent of screaming, tortured, dying souls..._

And, like a puppet with its strings cut, Harry collapsed, succumbing to unconsciousness.

 **A/N: Woo, cliffhanger! XD. I bet you all hate me right now, don't you?**

 **Oh! Before I forget:** **Important! As of today, I have edited chapter three, fixing mistakes and adding scenes. One of the scenes is actually (semi) relevant to the plot!** **I figured that you just** ** _might_** **have needed to know that. Maybe. Until next time!**


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